


Save Yourself

by nationalrebellion, shrugheadjonesthethird



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Journalist Betty Cooper, Photographer Jughead Jones, Post-Break Up, The Universe Intervened in their happiness, the universe works in mysterious ways, when you have a connection with someone it doesn't just go away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-02 20:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nationalrebellion/pseuds/nationalrebellion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrugheadjonesthethird/pseuds/shrugheadjonesthethird
Summary: “I don’t know what happened to us. Things sort of just fell apart. We were right for each other, and then we weren’t. Things around us starting changing, we started changing, we drifted apart, we stopped trying so hard, we let each other go without even noticing. Nobody fought to stop it. It just happened - and then it was over.” @londonfromparis (tumblr user)





	Save Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. Hi. Hello! Cass and Cyd here bringing you this angsty oneshot that literally no one asked for.
> 
> Cass got the idea after listening to a song by the Cheetah Girls. She sent a small drabble into our group chat, and ideas flew! We created this thing, and we are so incredibly proud of how it turned out.
> 
> Super special thanks to Lyss (breathewords/bettscoopr) and K (bugggghead) for being beta blessings and helping us when we were stuck. Y'all are lifesavers and we couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> \--
> 
>  
> 
> _(we do not own the summary quote, we found it on tumblr and it fit so perfectly. all credit to it goes to the above-named user. we reached out for permission to use it.)_

**i: the end**

_“I can not save you_

_I can't even save myself_

_So just save yourself.”_

_-Save Yourself, Stabbing Westward-_

_\--_

 

Their lives were never comfortable. Each of them had their fair share of troubles growing up, but the one thing they had, the one thing they always had, was each other. No questions asked.  
  
It started when they were in grade school. The three of them were inseparable once they’d become friends. Sleepovers at Archie’s until it became inappropriate to have a girl sleepover. Afternoons after class in the treehouse. But for two of them, the sweet innocence of their childhood grew into a love neither even knew was possible. Between late nights at the drive-in, long talks over milkshakes at Pop’s, and leisurely strolls along Sweetwater River,  even the bad things they’d endured were manageable because they had each other. Always.  
  
For Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper, the day of their high school graduation couldn’t come soon enough. It meant they would finally be leaving their small town to chase after the dreams they had so longed for, the goals they’d decided they’d achieve together, every step of the way.  
  
Leaving Riverdale was all they ever wanted, for themselves and each other. And eventually, the day had finally come when they got to watch the town with pep grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror of FP Jones’ pick-up truck.

It was a big world, and the high school sweethearts were about to get their first real taste of what being on their own would mean, how the simplest things could pull apart even the strongest of bonds.Jughead and Betty had been together since their sophomore year of high school, never expecting the worst was yet to come after overcoming the perils of everything from serial killers to gang life.

They lived only ten minutes apart, him at Baruch College studying photojournalism and her at NYU studying print journalism. They were determined to make it work and decided not to let themselves get in the way of what they knew to be a sure thing, even at the tender age of seventeen.  
  
Their first year of college, things weren’t fantastic, but they made it work. Canceled movie dates and rescheduled dinners had become the norm. Class assignments were getting increasingly more difficult as the semesters continued, but their love for one another was their guiding light.  
  
When sophomore year rolled around, everything started to fall apart. The courses they enrolled in were dragging them in different directions. Jughead's photography classes were taking him across town on a whim, leaving him to cancel or postpone plans with Betty. But she hardly minded, her search for the next big scoop had her doing the same.  
  
Midway through their spring semester, everything came to a head. Their relationship, once beautiful and straightforward, became nearly toxic and more complicated than any story either of them had to chase.  
  
Reality came crashing down too hard and too fast.  
  
In the beginning, Jughead and Betty relied on each other more than any two people should have. They never saw how unhealthy that was, not until the feeling of hollowness began building inside of them both. By the time they realized, it had gone too far. It was too late to fix their relationship, despite how much they wanted to.  
  
It was gravity that had started their story, wasn't it? Gravity pulling Betty toward Jughead like they were the only two objects in the galaxy. Floating. Existing. Towing each other closer and stealing matter from one another without even realizing it; they were two stars simultaneously  self-destructing.

Over the course of time, much like all stars do in the end, Betty and Jughead began to change. Some days Betty found herself clinging to Jughead in some vain hope of staying anchored to him as their supernova detonated. She supposed it was a long time coming, a split between the two of them that she could only pray and hope would heal one day. They simply didn’t know how to be one another’s person anymore, taking out their frustrations with life on each other.  
  
The beginning of the end started when Betty woke up one particular Thursday morning. There was something in the air that just felt different, colder somehow. Her chest felt heavy as she looked over her bed, finding it empty, the sheets cold to the touch. Betty’s eyebrows furrowed immediately as she looked around the room, trying to find signs that Jughead was still there. But his flannel was missing from the back of her desk chair and his boots were nowhere to be seen.  
  
He had shown up at her dorm around one in the morning while Betty was cramming for exams, looking exhausted. If Betty was honest, she felt the same way. He had attempted to let her know he was coming, but she never answered her phone anymore. Luckily, another student recognized him and let him into the building, and he slipped past the resident assistant on duty and up to Betty’s floor with ease.  
  
When she finally answered the door, she was surprised, but she wasn’t sure why. Jughead would often offer to come over and help her study when he needed a break from his own assignments or just needed to be around her to ease his troubled mind. But this visit felt different somehow. They didn’t share their usual greeting of a too long hug and lingering kiss, although that was becoming increasingly more normal for them—skipping the pleasantries and getting right down to business. But the night before it had seemed like Jughead was actually scared to touch her— like it wasn’t his place. Betty had cast the thought to the side, choosing not to linger on it, but perhaps that should have been her first warning sign.  
  
It wasn’t that Jughead was scared to touch her, he was just unsure if he could, uncertain if she wanted him to. One too many times when he had tried, Betty would reject him, saying, ‘ _Not now, Juggie. I really need to get this done’._ She had said it so often as of late that at some point, Jughead had stopped trying, and in hindsight that was his first mistake.  
  
Jughead sat next to Betty while she studied for an hour, his fingers itching to reach out and touch her, to tuck the loose, blonde curl behind her ear that had fallen in front of her face. He wanted to soothe the pain he could see in her shoulders from being hunched over a textbook for far too long. Shortly after, the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms. That part seemed to happen naturally, but sometime in the night, Jughead had untangled himself from Betty and slipped away from the bed, the feeling of uncertainty leaking into the cracks of their relationship and giving him the impression that maybe he was doing the wrong thing by being in bed with her.  
  
Across the room, Betty’s roommate was sleeping soundly as Betty stretched, cracking nearly every joint in her body. Outside her window, she could see the purple haze of morning mist and was able to determine that it was almost six in the morning. Betty didn’t know why she was awake so early, but something in her dreams kept scratching at her. She scanned the room one more time before stepping out of her bed, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders to combat the early morning chill.  
  
She walked into the living area, her eyes still searching for her beanie-clad love. The pot of coffee sat untouched on the counter, the automatic timer already shut off, yet no sign of Jughead. She strolled around the room, wondering where he would have gone so early in the morning, trying to rack her brain for any memory of him mentioning leaving early. She came up empty.  
  
She wandered back into her bedroom, still confused, and slightly concerned. It wasn’t like Jughead to just leave, she couldn’t think of a reason why he would. They always spent Thursday mornings together, having etched out the time in their schedules to make it so. Betty sat down on the edge of her bed, bringing her knees to her chest, tears building behind her eyelids.  
  
She looked to her left, spying her phone propped on the corner of her nightstand, blinking blue-- a telltale sign of a message waiting to be read. She slid the lock open and passed the photo she and Jughead had taken at Pickens Park while they were home for Christmas break, ignoring their smiling faces and the beginnings of pain in their eyes.  
  
_Juggie: Sorry._  
  
That’s all the message said. Sorry. It could have meant so many things, but Betty knew he had to be apologizing for more than just slipping out in the middle of the night. She used to wake up to messages like ‘ _You’re my entire world, Betty Cooper’ and ‘I am the luckiest man in the world for having you in my life’._ Now, she was left with one word from the same man who despised one-word answers.  
  
Tears cut tracks down her cheeks as she realized that things were too far gone to fix with words of love. Even for a couple as skilled with words as they were.  
  
Jughead finally came back, hours later, slipping in through an unlocked side door. He tapped on the door lightly, afraid to possibly wake Betty’s roommate, who he didn’t know was already gone for the day. He tried the knob when no one answered, finding it unlocked. He walked into the shared living space, scanning it for Betty. It looked exactly the same as when he left, but still somehow different, like everything was out of place. Maybe it was _him_ that was suddenly out of place.  
  
He knocked on her door, pushing it open slightly and found her, curled into a ball on the floor, looking as if she’d been crying for hours. Jughead looked down at Betty curled up against the wall, her face stained with tears. He walked over to her, hesitant at first, and when he reached her his tall frame cast an ominous shadow over her body.  
  
“Betty,” he started, bending down, his elbows resting on his thighs. Jughead extended a hand, placing a finger under Betty’s chin and tilting her head up so she had no choice but to look at him. Her usually forest green eyes were a blazing emerald, shining brighter because of the tears that she’d shed in his absence. Jughead felt his heart nearly stop at the sight.  
  
“I don’t know what to say anymore. I feel like it all comes out wrong and every time I try to touch you, you shy away from me. Something is wrong. Something _has been_ wrong for a while and I don’t even know how to fix it anymore. I’m not going to save you or be your knight in shining armor. It’s not my job. The only person who can save you is yourself. And who knows, maybe I’m the one who needs to save myself, too.” His hand moved to her cheek and gently caressed it, wiping away a tear that had fallen.  
  
He’d echoed her words from a conversation they had a few weeks prior. All Jughead wanted to do was be there for her, but she insisted she’d be fine, insisted that she didn’t need a ‘knight in shining armor.’  
  
A sigh spilled from Jughead’s lungs as he straightened his legs. Looking down at Betty once more, he saw nothing but sadness.  
  
“I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t want to be Cinderella, Jug. I’ll save myself. Someday, somehow, I will.” Betty’s voice was just above a whisper, but Jughead still heard her.  
  
“I know,” he whispered before walking away, leaving Betty behind as tears begin to stream down her face once again.  
  
She wanted to call after him, tell him that didn’t mean she didn’t want him in her life, but it was pointless. All Betty wanted to do was kiss away his sadness, but she knew she couldn’t. She had caused him so much pain, and being together, whether romantically or platonically, had proven to be too much for the both of them.  
  
In the half-light, Jughead looked like the shadow he had become. He stood by the door, hunched over a single duffle bag, and Betty forced herself to look away; she couldn't watch him leave, she didn't want to. In their naiveté, Betty and Jughead had taken their bond for granted, thinking it was unbreakable.  
  
But when Jughead walked out the door, their bond would not only be broken but shattered into fragments more numerous than the stars. Betty wanted to beg, plead, get down on her knees and tell him that the life they shared had meaning, that their love had— _has_ — meaning, but Betty knew that face. It was the one he wore when his ears were closed and his mind was made up, having put up impenetrable barriers.  
  
She remained glued to the floor, cradling her body with a mask of contentment, and all she could think of doing was to wish him well, wherever his dreams would take him. At this point, she knew that anything she said would only push him further away, and that broke her heart. She was sure his was breaking, too.  
  
They needed to focus on themselves first and foremost, a lesson that they learned the hard way. Betty needed to be her own Prince Charming, or whatever story they told little girls these days.  
  
Jughead needed to discover that his self-worth did not rely on another person.  
  
Until then, it would be many months of empty, cold beds, wistful memories, and dreams of kisses past to soothe their pain.

 

 

 

**ii: her**

_“I miss you as soon as I wake up. I miss you when I'm about to sleep._

_I wish you're always here next to me.”_

_\--_

 

The first week was the hardest for Betty. More than anything in the world, she wanted to call Jughead, hear his voice again, tell him how sorry she was for everything that had transpired between them. She had cried herself to sleep more times than she would care to admit, and she hated the heavy feeling in her chest that never seemed to leave.

Jughead Jones, from Betty’s point of view, was an incredible person. Betty thought the world of him and she doubted that would ever change. He would always, always be an essential part of her life, even if he wasn’t in it anymore. Though, Betty often found herself praying that fate would bring them back together, if there was such a thing as fate. He was and always would be her first true love. She knew deep in her heart that she would never stop loving him.

She thought about how she connected to a part of Jughead that no one else seemed to. How she was the only one who saw parts of his soul that he never let out of the bag. Betty remembered the first time they truly touched each other, remembered their reactions that were so beautiful and raw. In those moments, he was more real than the blood in her veins, and she felt him like the beating of her own heart. The bond they had forged together was molten when they began pulling away from each other. Betty remembered how she called for Jughead in her dreams, held out her hands and felt her face soaked with the evidence of her illusions.

In the months since the breakup, her world had become blacker than it ever was before, darkened by his absence, loneliness crippling her every thought. Her lungs would often struggle for breath against ribs of stone, and her feet became lost in their wanderlust. Before Betty met Jughead, her heart was soft, gentle. With him, it grew strong and vibrant. Now, it was utterly broken.

Weeks had turned into months that passed by achingly slow, and she had struggled to pull herself out of the depression that was threatening to swallow her whole. By the end of their first year apart, her heart still yearned for him, but the days didn’t feel as suffocating anymore. She supposed that was a blessing.

College was strange for Betty without Jughead. No longer could she call him up whenever she saw something that reminded her of him or to tell him that she loved him on a whim. It was the little things that she missed the most, but of course, life wasn’t going to stop just for her, so she thought she might as well go with the flow.

Betty knew at some point she would have to move on from Jughead, forget about him and everything they shared together. It was the only thing she could think of that would help ease the pain in her heart. He was such a big part of her life; he always had been. Her childhood best friend, first partner in crime, her first kiss, her first time. However, Betty knew that them deciding to break up was for the best.

One day while standing in front of the mirror, Betty realized she hardly recognized the tear-stained face looking back at her through the puffy red eyes that never seemed to disappear. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming urge to smash the mirror to pieces. She didn’t like the girl staring back at her. This wasn’t who she was. Somewhere along the way she had transformed into the type of person she had never wanted to be.She wasn’t the type of person who couldn’t stand on her own two feet, the kind of person who lost all sense of self without a partner by their side. No, this wasn’t her at all and the realization caused bitterness to rise like bile in her throat.

“No more,” she whispered to herself, staring at her reflection with hard eyes. Betty was done feeling sorry for herself, feeling destroyed over what could have been and crying over what was lost. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself because, in her mind, she knew as long as she kept it up, she was incapable of moving forward.

Betty had made a promise to herself. She would never feel the way she felt when Jughead walked out of her room all those months ago again Not if she could help it. His words still from months earlier rang in her head. _The only person that can save you is yourself._ She knew he was right, of course he was. She was the one who told him that, once upon a time. And so, that was precisely what Betty decided to do. She would save herself, be her own hero or Prince Charming. Her own knight in shining armor, and all of the other fairytale fiascos that she grew up on.

She would succeed in her own right, build herself up from the ashes, rise from the debris that had scattered all around her. It would leave her open and exposed, but she had found strength in the struggle, coming face to face with her troubles.

Something told her that despite how much her heart was aching, there was beauty in the breaking, and she knew that every tear that fell from her eyes dropped for a reason. She would never stop believing in herself again because at that moment, the only person who she had to rely on   was herself. She learned that on her own. Without Jughead. Still, she would live her life to the fullest, even if that meant living it without him. She realized for the first time in a long time that perhaps that was okay.

When junior year rolled around, Betty was doing her best to stay distracted. In order to do so, she drowned herself in her assignments, excelling at every single one with ease. Still, she felt like something was missing, as if she wasn’t being challenged enough with her coursework. She felt as if she could be doing more with her life outside of school.

On a search she went, discovering an internship position at _Musée Magazine_ and falling in love with the environment she found there. She made friends that she would never have expected to make and found herself thriving in her career. For the first time in a while, Betty exuded nothing short of pure happiness on the surface. Of course, every now and again, the reality that she could no longer share her exceptional achievements or sudden bursts of joy with Jughead would sink in, and she would find herself restarting the cycle of misery all over again. But it was getting better; little by little, day by day, it stung a fraction less with each cycle she inevitably found herself in.

In her time at _Musée Magazine_ , she’d met her fair share of people. A fellow intern, Sean DeLuca, had taken an interest in her. It wasn’t that she didn’t notice him, because she did. He was charming in his own right-- tall, blonde, brawny, intelligent-- but she couldn’t get past the constant sense of unease..

However, Betty wanted so badly to try and put herself out there, to get a taste of this different life that she was experiencing without Jughead. So when Sean had finally worked up the nerve to approach her one day and asked on a date to the movies, she accepted with only a slight pause.

The unsettling sensation never entirely went away though, everything in Betty’s mind screamed at her to cancel. But it wasn’t like there was anything wrong with Sean. Honestly, there really wasn’t. So she went, laughing when he joked and carrying on light conversation. He was a captivating person and sometimes even felt like the perfect boyfriend. And for a few months, Betty lived in the serenity of obliviousness sharing a few sweet, stolen moments. But though he was what a perfect boyfriend should be, he simply wasn’t for her. Not when her heart still belonged to Jughead, try as she might to deny it.

Eventually, she began noticing that between Sean and Jughead, there were just too many similarities. He reminded her too much of the one person that she was trying too hard to forget, to move on from. It wasn’t fair to Sean that she would continuously point out similarities between them. And on more than one occasion, she nearly called Sean by Jughead’s name.

Finally, senior year had come around, and Betty felt a strange sense of excitement bubbling in her chest. It had been four very long and trying years in nearly every sense of the word. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. However, Betty knew that everything she had been through would be worth it, that she would come out on top. Like she always hoped she would.

She had finished college with a bang, graduating at the top of her class with the highest honors, and even taking the spot of valedictorian. When she received her diploma, she felt a new sense of empowerment filling every part of her.

What’s more, somehow during her years at _Musée_ , her articles had made a lasting impression. Bruce Barnaby, a hiring manager at _National Geographic_ had been following her byline and seemed to think that her work was some of the finest he had seen. He got in touch, told her she would make an excellent addition to their team, and asked her to send in a job application. _It’s just a formality,_ the man had stated. At first, Betty was unsure about leaving New York to live in Virginia. She still had a lot to stay in the city for. Her family, her friends, her apartment with the nice view of the skyline conveniently located near the subway. But for the first time, Betty decided to do something for herself, even if it meant leaving some people behind. She decided to be selfish, if that’s what others would call it. So, without another thought, Betty accepted the position. With one month left before she was due to arrive in Virginia, she immediately buckled down and did what she always did best - research. In record time she found an apartment and meticulously and methodically packed away all of her belongings in preparation.  

With each box she heaved into the U-Haul, her mind became more clear, more determined, as if the growing physical distance between Betty and Jughead had now become an ardent ravine. As the nascent daylight kissed her skin, promising a new start, a new origin, she buried her memories of Jughead in thick block of ice.

Then, abruptly pausing to close her eyes and take in a deep breath of dewy air, she steeled herself to only think of _her_ future from that second forward. A future she would mold, build and direct. With each stride after that, she felt more in charge, more in control of her mind, body, and soul.

She was a girl stepping into her destiny, a destiny that lay exclusively in her own hands.

When she arrived in Virginia, Betty was giddy and slightly unsettled. It was possible that she hadn’t thought everything through, but she did know this was the right move-- for herself and her future.

As Betty stood in front of the _National Geographic_ headquarters in Washington, D.C., she almost couldn’t believe that she was there. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and there was no way she would pass it up. The building loomed over her head, and Betty felt nothing but excitement and glee. She was slightly terrified, too, being in a city where she knew no one, but it still felt like she made the right decision. Everything in her heart and soul screamed that this move couldn’t be more perfect.

Betty didn’t know if fate existed or what it had in store, but she was excited about the change.

She strolled into the building, her mind reeling off all of the possibilities and opportunities that she’d have a chance to experience. She took the staff elevator up to the top floor, routinely straightening her outfit to make sure that she was as picture perfect as possible. Her heels echoed on the tiled floor as she observed her surroundings. It was a new sight given the fact that she had never actually set a foot in the building before, let alone this office.

She walked up to the secretary’s desk and asked where she was to wait for Mr. Barnaby. After all, it was her first day, and Betty was determined not to screw things up. It just wasn’t in her DNA to make a bad first impression, at least not if she could help it.

Her usual scent of vanilla with an undertone of lavender contrasted with the office’s aroma of coffee and floor cleaner. The long hallway she was directed through was well-lit, and the floor was so well-polished Betty could almost see her reflection in it. Out the window, everyone below her looked to be the size of ants marching along. She found the sight kind of funny and allowed herself to smile, although she didn't quite know why. Maybe she was just in a good mood.

She made her way through the halls, following the secretary’s directions into the waiting area. She took a moment to take in her surroundings. First her eyes scanned the walls lined with black leather benches, a small fern was propped on a corner table, and copies of yellow-bordered magazines littered most surfaces.

When they roamed a bit farther, she wasn’t anticipating another person there already. His legs were spread wide, elbows rested on his knees, hands linked behind his neck, waiting patiently. The longer she looked, the closer she walked toward the person, the more her suspicions were confirmed. She’d know the spread of his shoulders anywhere, the slight turn in of his left foot, the rich obsidian black locks atop his head. She didn’t need to see the sapphire blue of his eyes or the faded flannel draped around his waist to know it was him.

Her heart thumped in her chest, faster than it had in a long time. Her body was humming, like it hadn’t forgotten what it was like to have his so close. If she was honest with herself, that’s all she’d wanted, even if she did attempt to mask it with dates and piles of work.

She saw his shoulders tense. Maybe he sensed her, too. Her left foot unconsciously turned toward the right, her heel skipping in her shoe faster than she ever knew possible. Her hands twitched at her sides trying not to think about the sensation of his hair through her fingers. She wondered if it felt the same, if it was as soft as she remembered.

She shook the thought from her head, not allowing her mind to slip back into the devastating train of thought she’d spent so long trying to avoid.

“Jughead?”

 

 

 

**iii: him**

_“Staring at the ceiling in the dark, same old empty feeling in your heart;_ _  
_ _Love comes slow and it goes so fast. Well you see her when you fall asleep, _ _but never to touch and never to keep.”__ _

_-Let Her Go, Passenger-_

_\--_

 

The first week was the hardest for Jughead. He wanted nothing more than to send the countless texts he’d written and erased more times than he’d ever admit.

_I’m sorry._

_How can we fix this apart?_

_Maybe we really need each other, or at the very least I know I need you._

Nothing sounded like enough, nothing would ever _be_ enough. He missed her, everything about her. The way she’d curl up next to him on the small twin bed of his dorm room. The flecks of gold in her piercing green eyes. The way her tongue would click against her teeth when she was trying to concentrate. Even the way the tears slid down her cheeks when everything in her life got to be too much. He simply missed her, his best friend, his favorite companion since childhood.

He could almost hear her voice in his head, trying to recall when things got so complicated. Where had they gone wrong? Where had _he_ gone wrong? He never meant to push her away, never meant to hurt her — it was the last thing he ever wanted. More than anything, Jughead Jones loved Betty Cooper, always had, always would, even if they weren’t meant to spend their lives together like he foolishly thought they might.

Betty was all of Jughead’s firsts — first female best friend, first girlfriend, first kiss, first time, the first person he trusted with his life, his first everything. He didn’t want that with anyone but her, but he made the decision to walk away. Or maybe they made it together. He still wasn’t entirely sure.

She was the best person he’d ever known, probably always would be. She was always good to him, always put him the highest on her miles-long list of priorities. They always just... worked. In hindsight he knew the comfort of familiarity was to blame for his lack of alarm when things began to fracture. He figured it would always just be natural. Until the day finally came that it wasn’t. They had been ripped apart, scattered like a broken toy on the floor of a child’s playroom.

What was he supposed to do without her? He knew life would move on, whether he was ready for it or not.

He threw himself into his work, taking extra assignments, trying to find new places to eat to avoid the possibility of running into her without warning. That may have been the worst part-- he loved that pizza place they’d always ordered from, but he thought she might be there, so he never went. He found a new coffeehouse, a different spot in the local library, even a different movie theater, just in case.

He could barely concentrate on anything, and as a result, he wasn’t pleased with the photos he’d been out capturing the last weeks for his latest assignment. When he handed them in, only because he had to (not because he wanted to), he was given glowing remarks, his professor telling him that it may have been his best work yet.

Jughead couldn’t see it. How could it have been his best work? He didn’t have his sounding board, he didn’t have her encouraging words in his ear while he stared blankly at his computer screen, overthinking how to edit the images he’d taken. He didn’t have Betty to make it _that_ _much better_.

As the semesters continued, he found greater success in his work, even without his beautiful blonde muse over his shoulder.

In the fall of his junior year, he was offered a coveted scholarship placement in a once in a lifetime study abroad program to Edinburgh Napier University for the following semester. He knew it was a huge deal, he knew it would be a fantastic opportunity; he also knew that having a break from the bright lights of New York City might ease the pain that had taken residence in his heart on that lonely Thursday the year before.

In the year since they’d been apart, she’d never left his mind, never left his heart. He could have sworn he saw her in every blonde ponytail on the streets of Manhattan, heard her in every giggle at the library. But it was never her, and it never would be. He didn’t even know if she was still in the area, but he wanted desperately to see her, to see how she was doing, to see if she was just as miserable as he was.

He told himself it would get easier, that he would get over her and move on, but it had been a year and that still hadn’t happened. He couldn’t bring himself to date. He’d been in love with Betty Cooper for as long as he could remember and a year apart wasn’t going to change that.

He accepted the spot to study in Scotland. The change of pace would do him good, get him out of his own head. What did he have to lose? It wasn’t like anything was tying him to New York anymore anyway.

Scotland turned out to be an amazing opportunity for Jughead. He had the chance to develop skills he’d never have otherwise, see things he’d only ever dreamed of. The only thing that could have made it better was if she was by his side instead of the brunette he was partnered with for the semester.

There was nothing wrong with Harper, really there wasn’t. She was a stark contrast to Betty. Short dark hair, less conservative, more his speed, whatever that meant. She was beautiful in her own ways, he supposed. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice it, but it was almost as if his heart wouldn’t let him see anyone but the blonde he left behind.

She didn’t try to hide her flirtatious advances on their long trips across the Scottish countryside. A lingering hand on his shoulder, sideways glances, laughing a little too loudly. All he could do was give her an awkward smile, not ready to let his heart be torn to pieces again.

She’d asked him on a date toward the end of the semester. He didn’t want to be rude, so he accepted, but when she pressed her lips to his at the end of the night, he knew it was wrong. He knew for sure he should have listened to his heart.

He arrived back to the United States in late May, traveling back to Riverdale for the summer. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. He had felt guilty for kissing Harper, even though he knew he didn’t have to, and he knew there was a distinct possibility he’d see Betty if he went home. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. He told himself that if he just stayed on the Southside, he could avoid a potential run-in.

The summer passed with little to do. He was itching to get out, to leave the town that held so many wonderful memories, most of them destroyed along with his relationship with Betty. He realized then that no matter what, she would always be a part of him, even if they weren’t together. She was there his entire life, there was no way he’d be who he was without her; but he could continue on with the lessons she’d taught him and be the best version of himself he could manage to be.

He was packing the last of his stuff into his worn duffle bag, the same duffle bag he had when he walked out of Betty Cooper’s life when his phone rang. It was still relatively early, too early for a phone call at the very least.

The words ‘ _your father has been in an accident_ ’ were all he heard before he rushed out of the trailer door heading to the only hospital they would have taken him to.

He arrived at Riverdale General Hospital, panic in his voice when he asked where his father was. The nurse directed him to a curtained off room in the back corner of the ER. When he pulled back the curtain, the white sheets covered his father head to toe. It could only mean one thing.

The doctors explained that he’d been hit by a drunk driver. _Oh, the irony_ , Jughead thought. FP Jones had been sober just over a year. He kept a rigid schedule of daily AA meetings and phone calls to his sponsor. It was working, going well. Jughead’s relationship with his father was finally on the mend. _I guess it was too good to be true_ , he thought.

His fingers twitched at his side the day they buried his father. It was a Serpent’s funeral - minimal, precisely as he would have wanted it. But someone was missing. The shining bright blonde in a sea of leather and black who would have comforted him, the only person who could.

He went back to the trailer, trying to figure out his next course of action. He threw his jacket on the kitchen table and slumped onto the worn, plaid couch. His fingers danced over the arm, the gravity of the situation settling on him as the memories came flooding back— Christmas mornings with his father and Jellybean, his father passed out while he left for school, Betty naked, moaning his name as if it were a mantra, and now the most profound loneliness he’d ever felt.

He had no one left.

He threw his head back, unable to control the tears that trailed down his face. It was the first time he’d let himself really cry since before the breakup. Waves upon waves of sobs and years of pent-up tears, tears tinged with anger and sadness were all finally being released. He curled his fists and pushed them into his eyes as the tears steadily fell, willing them to stop. Now that he’d started crying, he was afraid it would never stop.

Eventually it did. He felt lighter, a weight finally lifted off of his shoulders. He had cried for the loss of his father, the loss of his childhood, his best friend, the love of his life. He cried for everything that should have been, but he cried, too, for things that might still be.

In the time since their breakup, Jughead had learned a lot about himself. He had learned that he wasn’t just a product of his upbringing, he was more than that. He was more than the Serpent King’s son. More than the weirdo from the Southside, more than the charity case who was granted scholarships to afford college.

He was everything he set out to be. He was driven, talented, compassionate. He learned all of this without Betty by his side. Maybe that’s what he needed to do. Maybe that’s what she had meant by her needing to save herself. Maybe he needed to save himself, too.

He made it back to school for his senior year without a problem. For all intents and purposes, it was supposed to be an easy year, and it was until his professor, the one who had taken him under his wing his sophomore year, had given him yet another excellent opportunity.

He wanted Jughead to apply for a job in Washington, D.C. as a photojournalist for _National Geographic_. They were in need of a new photographer and a new staff writer and he felt as though Jughead would be perfect for either one. They wanted young graduates so they could teach them the way they wanted them to work, instead of disillusioned older people who were set in their ways and couldn’t adapt.

Jughead took the application and sent the portfolio that he’d curated to perfection along with it. He didn’t think much of it, but when he received a letter back almost two months later stating they’d love to have him on board as soon as he graduated, he was ecstatic.

His first thought was to call his father; he would have been so proud. His second thought was to call Betty. She would have been, too. Perhaps somehow she knew. Maybe somehow she always would be proud.

Maybe one day, she’d flip through the pages and see his name next to a copyright in the corner of a picture and smile, her heart bursting with pride for him. He knew that’s how it would be when he inevitably saw her byline in whatever publication she was published in.

He made the arrangements to move to Washington after graduation when it was still a few months away. He’d found an apartment he could afford in a small town in Virginia with only a fifteen-minute commute into the city. He’d met with the director of the department to get all of the paperwork squared away. He’d be making the move one week after graduation. He graduated with high honors, as he knew he would.

For the first time in a long time he was proud of himself. He had done it, and he had done it on his own.

He was going to start his new life, in a new city, a city that didn’t have any attachment to Betty Cooper.

_Jughead didn’t know if fate existed, or what it had in store, but he was excited for the chance at something new, something different, something for himself._

He walked through the front door of his new office building in black jeans and a less-worn flannel than usual, because he never had been the type of guy to wear a suit to work, and flannel would have to suffice. His staff identification badge was clipped to the bottom of his t-shirt, inconspicuous, but still present.

He strolled through the halls until he found his boss’ waiting area; he looked around the place he’d been once before a few weeks prior. It was lined in black leather benches and racks of previous editions of the magazine. He took a seat, waiting for his new boss to call him in.

As he waited, he heard the click-clack of high heels enter the room. His eyes were trained on the floor, elbows rested on his knees until the shoes were in his field of view. His eyes dragged up the long, tan legs and business casual linen skirt to find a white camisole tucked beneath it and a familiar pastel cardigan completing the outfit.

He didn’t need to continue up to know he was about to come face to face with a head of blonde hair and captivating green eyes. But he’d thought that before, thought he’d seen her nearly everywhere over the past two years. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him again. It had been a while, but it was still possible.

Then he caught the smell of her perfume, vanilla with an undertone of lavender. The scent of the person he’d ached for, yearned to touch. The person he would have killed for in a past life, that he probably still would if given the chance.

His head dipped down and again and he watched as the points of her feet turned in, her heel bouncing faster than a hummingbird’s heart. He could see her fingers twitch at her sides. He couldn’t look up into her eyes. He didn’t know what he’d see, and that terrified him, even if it was all he wanted. His mind had been cruel, but this was far worse. He knew it was her, but it had been so long.

His throat went dry as he picked at the skin around his fingernails, trying desperately to distract himself. His heart hammered in his chest, so hard, so fast that he feared his sternum would shatter. He tried to control his breathing, tried to remain calm, but he didn’t think he could.

All he wanted to do was drop to his knees, throw his arms around her waist and beg for her to forgive him. Beg for their life back. Beg to hear the same words from the dated voicemails he couldn’t bring himself to delete straight from her mouth. But he didn’t because she spoke first.

“Jughead?”

 

 

 

**iv: the beginning**

_“Now the story's played out like this, just like a paperback novel._ _  
_ _Let's rewrite an ending that fits instead of a Hollywood horror.”_

_-Someday, Nickelback-_

_\--_

 

Everyone deserves a chance at love. Betty knew that sounded silly, the idea that there was someone out there for everyone, but she believed in love. Maybe there wasn’t such a thing as true love, and maybe it all ended in heartbreak and pain, but everyone at least deserved a shot.

She and Jughead had theirs, and they blew it.

Love was never meant to be easy, and if they were honest with themselves, that was the strange beauty of it. You never knew where it would take you, and it’s never-ending, always on the move. In a way, love is like the soul of a gypsy. But that was just the thing—it’s mysterious, magical and heartbreaking. And everyone deserves something magical. They had magic, once.

“Jughead?”

Betty’s voice was quiet, curious, almost scared that she’d said the wrong name, scared that it wasn’t actually him sitting in front of her. She could see that he was too afraid to look up, that he knew it was her. She could tell by the slump of his shoulders, the twitch of his fingers clasped in front of him, and his many other nervous habits she’d learned over the years.

She’d thought she would have forgotten by now, but it seemed both her heart and the universe had other plans.

Jughead sat up, slowly rolling his spine to right himself, his head following through last, his eyes still closed. Her voice was unmistakable. The confirmation that his mind was not, in fact, playing tricks on him this time nearly melted the glue he’d attempted to fix his shattered heart with.

“Betty.”

His voice was as even as he could muster. He finally opened his eyes, instantly locking with hers.

They stayed there, gazes connected, fingers still twitching, hearts hammering so loud they were both sure the other could hear. Their eyes flicked up and down each other’s faces, trying to memorize the features they hadn’t seen in over two years.

She looked the same, more mature, but that was expected for a now 21-year-old. She wasn’t the fresh-faced teen he’d once known. She had grown into herself, leaving supple curves and more developed features where there used to be awkward teenage angles.

He looked weathered, lines creased in his face where there was once smooth skin. There was a hint of stubble where he had never been able to grow facial hair. There were new freckles she’d never seen and something different in his eyes that Betty noticed but couldn’t put a name to.

He opened his mouth once, twice to speak, but there were no words. The millions of things he wanted to stay were stuck on his tongue, in his throat, lodged in his heart.

“Jughead, you—”

“Ah! You’re both here, wonderful! Please, step into my office,” their new boss interrupted as he stepped out of his doorway to greet his two newest employees.

Betty followed toward the office while Jughead pressed his palms to his thighs and hoisted himself up from the bench, following her lead. She held the door open for him, the politeness that had been instilled in her from birth ever present.

They took their seats across from Mr. Barnaby, Jughead to the left, Betty to the right, just as they had always done.

“Now, let me be the first to welcome you both to the NatGeo family! You’ve both already completed the appropriate paperwork and I’m going to have my assistant show you to your office.”

A young man emerged at the door, motioning for the new hires to follow him. They walked down the hallway in silence. When the young man stopped and pointed toward the fifth door on the left, Betty and Jughead stopped shortly behind him. He opened the door and ushered them inside the surprisingly spacious office.

Inside the room sat two desks, two computers, two rolling chairs, a small refrigerator, and a small seating area. It was more substantial than either had expected.

“Wait, we’re sharing an office?” Betty asked, slightly confused by how quickly they were being thrust back into each other’s lives.

“Hope that isn’t a problem. You two will be working together most of the time anyhow, so we figured it was a good set up. Has Mr. Barnaby explained your first assignment yet?”

\--

They had been occupying the same space for nearly two weeks on the morning Jughead decided the sparse white walls were going to be the death of him. He lugged the frames from the beat-up truck he’d been able to afford after nearly a year of saving and began to hang them on the walls before Betty arrived at work.

It wasn’t like Jughead to be early, but he didn’t want the perfectionist in her criticizing how he hung the photos. He could only assume she still had the same hypercritical tendencies.

She walked into their shared office just as he was adjusting the final print. He stepped back, his hands planted on his hips and nodded his head, happy with what he’d created.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so sure of yourself,” she muttered as she placed her purse on her desk on the opposite side of the room.

Jughead ignored her statement. She hadn’t been there to see him succeed on his own. She didn’t know all of the newfound confidence he’d gained through his work over the last two years.

He was sitting at his desk sorting through his emails when Betty stood from her chair and looked up at the prints. She gazed over each one with what Jughead assumed was a critical eye, as she always had.

While some of the prints had titles, most didn’t. Betty stopped in front of one Jughead had taken of the Scottish countryside. It wasn’t his usual style. It was darker, misty from the rain that had fallen just hours before he took it.

“This is really beautiful. Where is this?” Betty asked, pointing at the frame but looking toward Jughead.

A small smirk played on his lips as he turned toward her to see which photo she was talking about.

“Edinburgh, Scotland.”

“Oh, wow. It must be stunning there.”

“Yeah, it was. I had a nice time,” Jughead said, turning back to his emails.

“I didn’t know you went to Scotland,” Betty said, her head lowering almost in embarrassment.

“Well, you wouldn’t have.”

Her eyes caught the small print of words at the bottom of the frame. _I want to show you_. She thought it was a peculiar name for a photograph, making a mental note to potentially ask about it in the future.

She walked back to her desk, organizing the few papers that had accumulated from co-workers after they’d left the night before. She could feel his eyes following her, as they always seemed to be.

“Listen, Juggi—Jughead. I don’t want this to be weird. Can’t we just try to be friends again?” She was exhausted from sparring back and forth like they were strangers.

“I don’t know, Betty. Things are different now, _we_ are different now. Maybe these versions of ourselves can’t be friends.” He shrugged, trying to focus on his emails, but failed as his mind kept drifting back to Betty, who was still standing by her desk.

“I mean, I know we’re not. I didn’t expect us to be. But…” She paused, taking a deep breath. Her tone was firm when she started speaking again. “We’re adults now and I think we could at least _try_ to be cordial instead of playing this game of cat and mouse and trying to avoid each other.”

Betty bit her bottom lip, taking in a shaky breath as she focused on the newly-hung pictures on the wall. Being this close to him again, sharing an office and working so closely together played a series of tunes in her head so jumbled she couldn’t make them out.

Jughead sighed, the noise filling the silent void as he wracked his brain in an attempt to respond to her request. Honestly, he wanted to make things work between them more than anything in the world, but he knew that might mean never moving past friendship. Even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud, Jughead Jones was still irrevocably in love with Betty Cooper, and he was more than certain nothing would ever change that. That’s why he was keeping her at arm’s length. Friendship? He couldn’t _just_ be friends with her.

As his eyes flickered around the room, looking at anything and everything except for her, he suddenly felt the urge to change his life pattern to avoid her like he did their sophomore year. However, there was the lingering fact that he couldn’t outrun her forever, not anymore at least, and while he didn’t really believe in fate or destiny or universal conspiracy plans, Jughead did feel as if something, some outside force, was stitching them back together.

So he lowered his proverbial arm.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

\--

One month after Jughead and Betty had decided to try being friends again, they fell into a seamless pattern of morning salutations and surprisingly comfortable hugs. Still, there were times when their nerves ran high, and both were especially tense one July evening in particular. They were getting ready to leave the office when they both stood at the same time, faces closer together than they had been in recent memory as they leaned over their respective desks.

Standing in their shared office, Jughead was transported back to his sophomore year of high school. While the setup was different, definitely more updated than the Blue and Gold office had been, he couldn't help but notice how the dust particles swirled in the air nearly the same way. How when the sun peeked its way through the blinds, it lit Betty's hair aglow in the same way he’d always admired before he had the nerve to ask her on a proper date.

“I was just—”

“Do you want to—”

They laughed in unison, remembering how they would often interrupt each other by accident when they were younger. Betty smiled to herself, looking up at Jughead, who was putting a few of his pictures away in his bag.

“Sorry, what were you going to say?” he asked, leaning over to turn off his computer and check a few items on his desk, making sure they were in order.

Betty looked around, tilting her head slightly and trying to think of the best way to respond without stumbling over her words. “Are you gonna have dinner tonight? What am I saying? Of course, you are. Your appetite has always been insatiable.” She took a deep breath to calm herself, trying to get the next part of the sentence out without rambling. “Would you maybe want to have dinner… with me?” Her hands were shaking. “As friends,” she added hastily, not wanting to make their patched friendship awkward or torn again.

“Well, I do plan on having dinner tonight. I do most nights. And you’re right about my appetite. It’s always been a beast.” He chuckled when he saw her cheeks flush.

“I’m glad to see not everything about you has changed.” Betty ducked her head, trying to hide her blush.

“I was planning on cooking tonight. Did you maybe want to come by? Or is that weird? Are we not there yet?” Jughead panicked as soon as the words slipped from his mouth. Why had he suggested she come over?

“Oh. You cook?”

“Yeah, I figured it out when I had to abandon my favorite pizza place in New York,” he shrugged.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. So, what do you say?”

“That wouldn’t be weird?”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird, Betts.”

The nickname rolled off his tongue like it had always been there, just waiting to tumble out of his mouth. He watched her face closely. There was no sign that he’d said the wrong thing, so he took it as a win.

“Follow me? It’s only twenty minutes up the road.”

“Lead the way, Jug.”

They walked to the parking lot in comfortable silence and got into their respective cars, Jughead pulling out of the garage first, followed closely by Betty. It seemed familiar to her, the first few turns she deemed coincidence, but when they pulled into a modest apartment complex, she picked up her phone, immediately dialing what she hoped was still Jughead’s phone number.

“You’re three feet behind me, how can you possibly be lost?” he joked.

“I thought you said we were going to your place.”

“Yeah, we’re here. Why?”

Betty hung up the phone, unable to believe that the universe has orchestrated such a grandiose plan. She laughed to herself.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she mumbled to herself. She pulled into her usual parking space marked with a bold, yellow 143.

Jughead had pulled into his own on the other side of the lot; the spots weren’t close, but they weren’t so far apart either—just far enough away to go unnoticed.

She saw Jughead approach the car. She got out and slammed the door closed.

“Uh, I wouldn’t park there. The numbered spots are for residents.”

“I know. It’s my spot.”

“It’s your what?”

“I live in 4H.” She pointed up to the building behind her. “Small world, I guess.” She dropped her arm unceremoniously.

“Yeah, small world.” Jughead looked up into the sky, the clouds painting shades of orange, pink, and purple above his head. He let a small chuckle escape his lips and they made their way to his apartment. When they got to the door, he slid his key into the hole and twisted the bolt, the lock granting them entrance with a metallic thud. He pushed the door open slowly, thankful he had a tendency to keep his home cleaner than he did when he was in college.

He took her coat and hung it on the hook next to the door, his hanging beside it, his keys thrown in the small wooden dish on the table and shoes tucked carefully underneath it. She followed suit, not wanting to disrupt his routine.

“Something to drink?” he offered.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Sounds good. I’m just gonna run to the bathroom.”

She took the few minutes he was away to look around. The layout of the place seemed to mirror hers, but his decor was something she’d never imagined.

There were photographs artfully framed and hanging on the walls, bookshelves stuffed to the gills on either side of a television. She walked over to them and ran her fingers over the spines, dislodging dust until a sleek, black leather binder sitting on the coffee table caught her eye.

She picked it up carefully, almost afraid of opening it, of possibly overstepping. She opened it anyway. The first photograph she recognized—it was one that she had modeled for—but her face wasn’t showing. Her back was to him, her hair blowing in the wind in the middle of the street. She remembered it perfectly and smiled to herself.

She slowly leafed through the pages finding photograph after photograph, each better than the last. About a quarter of the way through, she stopped recognizing them. They must have been taken after they had broken up. Her heart clenched in her chest at the thought of those lost years.

Jughead emerged from the bathroom and caught Betty looking through his portfolio. He watched her as she flipped the pages, carefully studying each image, her fingers grazing over a few of them as if trying to imagine what it was like to have been where he was when he took them.

He cleared his throat, grabbing her attention.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Do you like them?”

“Of course I like them, Juggie.” Her voice was soft, quiet, like it was obvious even if ten years had passed, she would love his work without a doubt. _I’ll always like them._

  
He approached her slowly to see where she was in the layout. She was in Scotland, the photos he’d taken while studying abroad. She turned the page and went still. He knew exactly what photo it was without even looking down. He had Harper model for him a few times there, and they’d come out better than he was hoping for.

“Who’s this?” Betty’s voice cracked. She silently scolded herself for caring.

“That is Harper McCurley. We met when we studied abroad in Scotland spring of junior year.”

“Oh.”

“Not that it matters, but it's not what you think. We were friends, that’s it.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain his relationship with Harper, he certainly didn’t need to, but he unconsciously wanted— _needed_ —her to know that they were not and never were a couple.

“Well, it’s a beautiful shot regardless.”

He stood over her shoulder as she continued to flip through the portfolio and soon came to the end of it. She closed it gently and placed it back in its spot on the coffee table.

“I’m gonna go start dinner. Make yourself at home.” He gestured to the living room.

He started chopping onions and mincing garlic on the still-damp cutting board he’d pulled from the dishwasher. He never really knew what he’d make with the ingredients he had, but somehow it always came together into something edible, even delicious at times.

He pulled a carefully-wrapped package of fish from the fridge and began to prepare it with haphazardous spices and salt. He grabbed the aluminum foil and began carefully situating the salmon and various colorful vegetables before ladling a small amount of water over top and sealing his creation with additional foil. Then, he placed the fish in the oven and set the timer for twenty minutes.

He was almost done cleaning the kitchen when he heard Betty’s voice directly behind him.

“Do you need any help?”

He turned around, a few utensils in his hand he was about to wash.

“No, Betty, I got it. Thanks.”

“Let me help?” She blinked at him, her eyes shining with something he could only label as hope behind them.

“Alright, sure. If you insist.”

In all reality, there wasn’t much to clean, a few utensils in the sink and scraps of onion on the cutting board. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but it seemed that she really wanted to help, and who was he to deny her that?

They worked in silence for a few minutes, and when he bent to get the dishwasher started, she stood at the sink, hands gripping the porcelain. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She had spent two years pushing her feelings away. Two years trying to forget about the pain being with Jughead had caused her, but now…  Now standing in his kitchen, having dinner with him, trying to be friends again, it was too much, too soon. She felt like she was drowning, surrounded by everything she was running from.

Jughead saw her grip on the sink, saw the shallowness of her breathing. He didn’t want to overstep, it wasn’t his place anymore to ask, but he couldn’t let her spiral in his kitchen. It wasn’t fair to her. He knew she’d be embarrassed, even though she shouldn’t be.

“Betty, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, trying to convince him—and herself—that she was fine, that nothing was wrong.

He approached her slowly and peeled her hands back from the sink. He carefully spun her around so her lower back was leaning against it. He took her hands in his, keeping her from the bad habits he didn’t even know if she still had.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, glistening with unshed tears. In the heat of the moment, Betty leaned forward slowly until her lips were hovering over his. Their mouths crashed together without a second thought and fireworks erupted from Betty’s chest.

Kissing Jughead felt so right. Perfect.

It had taken him a nanosecond to realize what was happening, but when he did, he kissed her back. The push and pull of their lips started up like they’d been doing it every day for their entire lives, despite the separation of the years. It seemed that their bodies didn’t know that, though.

He placed his forehead to hers when they broke apart, their breathing hitched and their hearts pounding in time. He led her out of the kitchen to the couch while they waited for dinner to finish baking.

Jughead and Betty sat side by side, silence filling the air. They were both unsure of what to do or say next as they stared into each other’s eyes. Finally, Betty looked away, tears threatening to blur her vision as she felt Jughead’s hand encircle her own again. It was warm and soft, reassuring almost, and Betty remembered how much she missed this, the innocent hand-holding.

“Betty…” he started, and suddenly she felt herself being shot back two years in time when he started _that_ conversation the same way. She pulled her hand from him, wiping a tear that had managed to escape down her cheek. She didn’t really have the strength to go through this again.

“Please don’t. I don’t think I can take it this time,” she pleaded, her voice barely even a whisper as she hung her head low, hiding her face. Suddenly, she felt his hand snake its way to her cheek, cradling it, forcing her to look at him.

“Hey. Look at me. Betty, please? I tried to forget about you. I tried to move on, but nothing ever felt more wrong.” He took a deep breath, trying to choose his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. “I’m sitting here, heart on my sleeve. I know I let you down, we let each other down, but I never want to make that mistake again.”

Betty drew in a sharp breath as she stared into Jughead’s deep blue eyes, her heart thumping louder than a train shooting down the tracks. Logically, she knew what was past should stay just that. But her heart? Her heart was telling another story.

“So don’t.”

 

 

 

\--fin

**Author's Note:**

> Let us know what you thought about it! We wanna hear from you! Drop us a kudo, comment or message on discord/tumblr.
> 
> Find us on tumblr @sweetpea-cc (cass) and @shrugheadjonesthethird (cyd)
> 
> We appreciate you all. Thanks for checkin' us out. :)


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